


and if i fall for you (would you fall too?)

by armadilo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Bisexual Liam, Drunk Harry, Drunk Louis, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Implied Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Light Angst, M/M, No Smut, Party, Rich Harry Styles, Rich Louis Tomlinson, also at the very end just implied, at the very end, but that's eventually apologised for, very minor homophobic comment in one line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 18:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6968485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armadilo/pseuds/armadilo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Yeah, you wish, arsehole”, Louis says. Something in him wants to curl up into Harry's chest and he makes the slightest movement to draw himself closer to the source of warmth. They've always done this, play fighting and swearing at each other to no end, but only recently has Louis found himself wanting to cuddle Harry rather than punch him in the balls. He doesn't even want to think about what that means.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Louis and Harry have been the most unlikely of friends for eleven years, but fate seems to have other ideas about their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and if i fall for you (would you fall too?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emmaazhou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaazhou/gifts).



> this was really fun to write, it was a pinch hit and i did it around exam season so it's maybe not as long as i would have liked it to be, but i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> okay so the authors have been revealed now, check out my [tumblr](http://arsetattoo.tumblr.com/) if you enjoyed!!

“Do you really have to do that here?”

Louis clutches at the straps of his backpack, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone can see as Harry takes another drag on his cigarette and tips his head back to blow the smoke straight up over his head. His long, curly strands of his hair sway against the grass with the movement. Louis knows that Harry's family used to badger at him to cut it, seeing it as just another form of rebellion against the father that he never knew and the step-father that took his place, along with all the under-age drinking and partying and god knows what else. Plenty of the guys at their private school used to badger at him, too, asking him why he wanted to look “like such a girl”. They all pretty much stopped when Harry snapped one day and punched a particularly annoying, beefy looking year thirteen in the face. It earned him a suspension, of course, but what was one more thing to add to the list of things he could ruin his future with? Louis' the only one who gets to tease him about his hair. Sometimes, he gets the urge to run his fingers through it but it's not like he'd ever admit that to anyone, especially not to himself.

“Harry, someone's going to see, cut it out!”, Louis says again. 

He's got no idea how they ever managed to become friends. The preppy, goody-two-shoes drama kid and the chain smoking seventeen year old who skips more lessons than he goes to isn't usually the best match at their school, and yet somehow, they made it work. Louis still remembers Harry as the tiny, defensive kid from a broken family that he took under his wing in year two, and they've made it to year twelve as best friends against all odds. Harry even used to be shorter than Louis at one point, something that seems practically impossible when Louis looks at his lanky legs and awful posture now. 

“Jesus, Lou, do you ever relax?”, Harry says, laughing.

“Look, maybe you don't care about getting suspended, but I can't exactly afford that if I want to get in to Cambridge, can I?”

“Oh, like smoking on school grounds would stop Cambridge from accepting someone with five predicted A*'s, please”, Harry says. 

He grabs hold of Louis' arm and tips him down onto the grass, where they're partially hidden behind a tree away from the prying eyes of the teacher on break duty. Louis yelps as he lands flat on Harry's chest, trapped as Harry starts to mess up his hair.

“Harold, get off! You're such an arse, get-”

“What, scared I'm gonna ruin your look, pretty boy?”

“You're getting smoke in my hair, get off me, you actual twat!”, Louis tries to fight back, but he'd let Harry hold him like that for the next three hours if he could. 

“Your hairs' getting a bit long, pretty boy. You trying to turn into me?”, Harry says as he flicks at Louis' fringe, starting to curl up slightly at the end but not long enough to get into Louis' eyes and bother him just yet.

“Yeah, you wish, arsehole”, Louis says. Something in him wants to curl up into Harry's chest and he makes the slightest movement to draw himself closer to the source of warmth. They've always done this, play fighting and swearing at each other to no end, but only recently has Louis found himself wanting to cuddle Harry rather than punch him in the balls. He doesn't even want to think about what that means. 

They lie together for a bit, Harry finishing off his cigarette but making sure that he blows it as far away from Louis' hair as possible despite all the teasing. It's one thing for Harry to come back into his lessons smelling of cigarettes (that is, if he turns up to the lesson at all), but both Louis' teachers and his parents don't agree with Harry's constant presence around him, so it wouldn't do well for Louis to sink down to Harry's standards in their eyes. It's not like Louis is completely innocent- both his rich family and Harry's connections mean he won't pass up a joint or a good party, but that's one thing that the admissions tutors at whatever Russell Group universities he applies to don't need to know about. 

“You going to Liam's tonight?”, Harry asks, slowly sitting up and prodding Louis in the shoulder to get off of him. 

“Mum's away in Paris working on her fashion line and dad's away skiing in the bloody Italian Alps with all of my siblings, so what do you think?”

Harry opens his mouth to answer, but a shrill voice cuts across the school field before he can get so much as a syllable out. 

“Mr. Styles, Mr. Tomlinson, lessons started fifteen minutes ago, exactly what do you think you're doing?”

“Harold, I'm going to kill you”, Louis turns to his best friend, murderous look on his face. 

“What? It's not my fault you got so carried away by lying on me that you lost track of the time”, Harry says with a grin already half-formed on his face.

“I'm the one that got carried away? You're the one that bloody lunged at me and ruined my hair, you-”

“And smoking, no less! How unexpected!”, the teacher stops Louis from having to come up with a strong enough insult, hobbling over the muddy grass in her three-inch heels. 

“Mr. Tomlinson, I highly recommend that you make your way over to your English lesson before anyone notices you're missing”, she says with a glare at Louis, who swings his bag back over one shoulder and shoots up from the ground. “And Mr. Styles, you're coming with me, no arguments.”

“I'll meet you at yours at seven, okay?”, Harry ignores her, shouting after Louis, already speed walking away. He turns around only to flip Harry off, and starts running towards the building before the teacher changes her mind. The last thing he hears is Harry trying to convince her that the cigarettes are actually a prescription medicine from his doctor for a very rare disease that he has, and Louis hates how endearing he finds the ridiculous lies. 

 

It's twenty minutes past five and Louis has already tried on at least four different outfits, each one looking worse to him than the last. His room, usually kept completely spotless (partially thanks to the housekeeper, but partially due to the fact that he's not a complete animal like Harry, who's completely happy to sleep underneath a pile of dirty clothes on his bed rather than a duvet and lock himself away from his own housekeeper for weeks on end), is now strewn with various items of clothing. Louis picks up the skinny black jeans hanging from his bedpost again, and gets halfway through trying to squeeze them on when he decides that maybe he'd be more comfortable in the dark blue wash ones on his window seat. He's normally so great with his fashion sense, he doesn't get what the hell is wrong with him. It's just a party, he reminds himself, nothing new. Louis' been to plenty of parties with Harry, staying out till four in the morning or even the whole night when both his parents are away on some inevitable business trip and Harry's parents have given up the will to care. And yet, his palms are sweaty and his heart is pounding like he's drunk too many cappuccinos from the coffee shop down the road where him and Harry always seem to end up when they have a late start at college, or when Louis is the only one with a late start but Harry joins him anyway because “college is only for the next year and a half, but I'm probably going to be stuck with you forever so it's best to piss off the teachers rather than you”. 

After trying them on for what feels like the fifth time, Louis decides that he wants to wear the black skinnies after all. It's not like he's deliberately trying to show off his arse in them, or deliberately showing off his biceps in the white Stone Roses tank top that he finally chooses; just a happy coincidence that his clothes happen to display his best assets, is all. He's always been jealous of the sheer number of tattoos that Harry has all down his arms and across his chest- there were forty three the last time he counted, but knowing Harry he's probably gone and gotten a whole bunch of new tattoos right across his arse over the past few months. Harry has a lot of older friends with tattoo guns and Louis knows that he only needs to say the word and Harry would get him someone willing to tattoo his forehead. But he also knows that his parents would kill him if he got even the smallest tattoo underage, and with the sheer number of siblings that he has, it's kind of hard to keep secrets. 

At exactly six on the dot, Louis sits down on his bed after having put the finishing touches on his messy-but-not-too-messy fringe, and realises that he still has a whole hour to go before Harry turns up on his doorstep. His fingers twitch towards his phone, but he pulls his hand away before he can do something stupid. Like texting Harry to come pick him up early because for some damn reason, the five hours that they've been apart have made Louis miss him with a dull ache in his chest. He also considers texting his other friend, Niall, and inviting him along to the party, but he knows that Niall will probably say no. He's more the type of boy that Louis' parents would want him hanging out with; straight-laced, golf-obsessed, sweet little Niall. It's funny, the way life brings the most unlikely of friends together, Louis thinks, but then stops himself before he starts getting too existential. 

Instead, he walks into his kitchen and goes straight for his father's liquor cabinet. His eyes skim over the champagne, then the various port wines that must have cost an arm and a leg but still barely put a dent in his father's monthly pay check. He settles on the selection of whiskey bottles, and chooses the cheapest looking one (although 'cheap' probably still isn't the right word), since it's not like he's going to be able to taste the difference anyway. At this point he'd be happy with a bottle of store brand vodka from the corner shop. He skips pouring the whiskey into a glass and chugs a mouthful of the amber liquid straight from the bottle. Louis winces at the stinging sensation, but immediately feels a sense of calm wash over him as it travels down and heats his stomach. The sweaty tremors in his palms gradually disappear, and he realises that he's drunk almost a quarter of the bottle when the doorbell finally rings. Louis stands up and sways sightly, releasing the bottle from his grasp. He walks over to the monitor next to the door, and watches Harry stare up at the camera and grin while playing with the ends of his hair. 

“Bloody adorable arsehole”, Louis mutters as he buzzes him in. 

“Are you really wearing a sheer fucking shirt?”, he asks when he opens the door and sees the bright porch light illuminating Harry's shirt. He can half-see the outline of the huge butterfly tattoo sprawled across Harry's chest. 

“Come on, Lou, you've known me almost eleven years, what else would I wear?”, Harry says. 

Then, he looks at Louis and notices the slightly glazed over look in his eyes.

“Jesus, are you drunk already?”, Louis half expects a lecture, but instead, Harry pushes past him and says, “What, and you're not going to share?”

Harry sits down on the floor with his back against the sofa and Louis sits down right next to him, reaching for the bottle again only to find that Harry's already confiscated it in his grasp. They sit together, taking turns with sips from the bottle and Louis is at the point where he'd rather just stay at home and get drunk and high and chat shit with Harry the whole night (Louis doesn't keep weed in the house but Harry never disappoints), when Harry stands up on unsteady feet. 

“Ready to go?”

Louis opens his mouth in protest but something about the laurel leaves tattooed along Harry's v-lines and the way that they peek out when Harry stretches his arms up knocks the words right out of him. 

It's not a long way to go to Liam's so Louis doesn't bring a coat, knowing that he'll be protected by the warm summer air and (hopefully) Harry's body heat if he happens to start shivering. That, plus he doesn't own any coats that cost less than a hundred pounds, and doesn't want to get vomit on something expensive. As they round the corner, they can already hear the faint sound of music making its way down the street. Liam's house is unmistakeable, practically one of the biggest houses in the whole of Kensington, with its very own swimming pool and private cinema and god knows what else that Liam hasn't gotten the chance to show off yet during the few times that Louis and Harry have been to his place before. The perks of going to a private school, Louis thinks. There's a few other people walking in the same direction as them, and it's obvious that the party is already fully underway when they finally get inside, after dodging the various smoking or vomiting kids in the unnecessarily long driveway. 

“You know, I'm the last person to complain about luxury but does he really need this many trees?”, Louis says as he ducks under the branch of a particularly low hanging cherry blossom. A few of the petals fall away straight into Harry's hair, and Louis has to resist the urge to pick them out, or, worse yet, make him stop and start braiding flowers into his curls. 

“Please, you're barely five foot seven, stop acting like they're getting in your way”, Harry smirks back. Louis tries to punch him in the arm as a response, but manages to trip over his feet instead and almost face plant onto the gravel below. Harry catches him just in time. Time seems to stop still for a second as they stand there, Harry gripping onto Louis' arm and Louis just staring back up at him, but then Harry starts laughing and the spell is broken. 

“Forgot how clumsy you are when you're pissed”, Harry mutters. 

They get to the house without any further incident. Harry makes an immediate beeline to the drinks table, leaving Louis trying to find some familiar faces in the crowd. He's not really close to many other people besides Harry, and he's also pretty sure that he only got invited to Liam's party because of Harry. Louis and Harry are basically a package deal at this point, something that everyone in Harry's social circle has managed to get used to. Still, besides a couple from his English class that's currently making out on the sofa, Louis can't see anyone else that he even vaguely knows, and so he stands by the entrance swaying awkwardly to the beat of the music, waiting for Harry to come back. 

“Lou! Look who I found!”, Louis hears from the other side of the room. He looks over to find Harry standing with his arm draped over Liam's shoulder. The lopsided grin on Harry's face makes his heart flutter. 

“Hey, Liam”, he says to the muscled, quiff-wearing boy leaning in to Harry's vice-like grip as he makes his way over to them.

“Louis, glad you came!”, Liam says, and by the glazed over look in his eyes, Louis can tell that he's not the only one who's been doing some pre-drinking. “Drink?”, Liam continues, shoving a red cup at Louis before he can reply. Not like he'd say no, though. It only takes one look at Harry's sheer shirt for Louis to down half the liquid in the cup without even checking to see what kind of alcohol it is. Maybe he should get so blackout drunk that he won't ever remember that way that Harry makes his heart grow at least two sizes every time he so much as looks Louis' way. 

The first two hours of the party seem to go by in a blur. One minute, Louis is sitting on the sofa trying to move as far away as possible from the couple that still somehow hasn't managed to get tired of eating each others' face, and the next minute he's sitting on a doorstep in the back garden sharing a joint with Harry and two other guys that he's never seen before in his life. While Sober Louis is neither confident nor particularly fond of strangers, Drunk and High Louis is a completely different story. Even so, something still feels off and he can't quite seem to get past awkward small talk despite the fact that he's so far gone. Louis excuses himself to go to the bathroom, barely managing to get up with how fuzzy his head is. He shoves his way through the crowds and up the stairs. He locks himself in the thankfully empty bathroom and drapes himself over the toilet, breathing heavily. He stays like that for what feels like an hour, although it's probably ten minutes at the very most. By the time someone knocks on the door, he still hasn't managed to empty the contents of his stomach out, and feels even worse than he did before. 

“Give me a minute!”, he shouts as the someone knocks on the door again, groaning at the noise. 

“Lou, it's me, you alright?”, comes the unmistakeable sound of Harry's voice. Louis groans again, because his best friend is the last person that he wants to see right now.

“Harry, hey”, he finally unlocks the door after taking a few deep breaths to clear his head as much as he can. Harry's cheeks are flushed, his hair is an even bigger mess than usual and he's leaning against the door with the awful lopsided grin still plastered across his face, but the minute he takes in Louis' pale, sweaty face, his brows furrow in concern. In that moment, Louis realises that he wants nothing more but to kiss him, which makes no sense because they're both a hundred percent straight, but, well, there's that. 

“You look like shit, are you alright?”, Harry says. 

“Wow, thanks for the compliment, Harold”, Louis says, trying to keep his tone completely normal and probably failing miserably when Harry's face grows even more concerned at his words. “But I'm fine, just a bit queasy, that's all”.

“You sure?”

“What are you, my mother? Come on, lets go”, Louis says, and goes back down the stairs with Harry following close behind. 

There's a circle of people sitting in the middle of the living room, with Liam at the centre.

“Louis! Harry! Come here!”, he says as he spots them at the base of the stairs, and its only too late that Louis notices the empty wine bottle that Liam was putting in the middle of the circle.

“Don't tell me you're playing spin the bottle, what are we, twelve years old again?”, Louis jokes, but he can feel his stomach sinking and wonders if he should run back up the bathroom again. 

“Come on, Lou, lighten up”, Harry says, and sits down onto the plush carpet, pulling Louis down along with him before he can protest.

“Harry, I-”

“Unless you're about to hurl al over the pace, you're playing”, Harry says, too drunk to take no for an answer, and so Louis shuts up and settles down next to him, even though having to kiss someone else or, worse yet, having to see Harry kiss someone else is the last thing that he wants to do right now. A bottle of vodka is passed round the circle and Louis takes a long swig. Maybe if he throws up all over the ridiculously expensive carpet after all, he'll have an excuse to escape the game as soon as possible. 

“Right, if the bottle lands on you the first time, you have to kiss on the mouth, and if it lands on you a second time, you have to use tongue no matter who the other person is”, Liam explains, slurring his words slightly. 

“What if it lands on you a third time?”, a girl calls out. 

“How about seven minutes in heaven if that happens?”, comes a reply, and someone else in the circle wolf whistles. 

“Sounds like a plan”, Liam grins, and Louis nestles the vodka closer to his body as the wine bottle begins to spin. Every time it lands on someone other than him and Harry, it feels like a huge weight has lifted off his chest. Louis knows that he can't act like his feelings are normal anymore when, as the bottle stops right at Harry's feet a few minutes later, he feels like he's been punched in the stomach. 

Harry crawls over to the opposite side of the circle. The girl is already sitting up waiting for him, and since the bottle's already landed on her once, Louis has to pretend like he's completely unaffected as Harry and her snog for a grand total of six seconds (not that Louis is counting). Harry looks surprisingly sheepish and more pink-cheeked than usual, but that only makes him look more endearing as he makes his way back over next to Louis.

“Nice”, Louis says. Thankfully, Harry is far too drunk to notice the falsity in his tone. 

When the bottle lands on Harry a second time, Louis feels like he's lost the capacity to care, but then when it happens a third time, he feels like it's starting to get a bit ridiculous, to say the least.

“Someone's popular tonight”, he mutters to Harry, who only smirks back. 

The last thing he's expecting is to find himself staring down at the bottle like he's staring down the barrel of a gun only a few seconds later. There's more wolf whistles from the crowd when it becomes obvious that it's Harry and Louis, the completely straight best friends of eleven years who are going to be stuck with each other in a room, supposed to be making out, for the next seven minutes.

“Well, this just got interesting”, Liam says. “It's the first door to your left when you get upstairs, off you go”.

“Liam, I won't-I'm not-”, Louis stutters. His heart might just about jump out of his chest. 

“Come on Louis, rules are rules. I don't see Harry protesting, don't spoil the fun”, Liam says as Harry drags him up off the ground. 

“We don't have to do anything Lou, come on”, he whispers in Louis' ear. Louis doesn't know whether he should be thankful or disappointed that nobody can really make them kiss.

“Looks like they're already getting started!”, someone calls out, and there's a round of cheers and wolf-whistles as Louis and Harry disappear round the corner at the top of the stairs, with Liam following behind them to lock them inside.

“Guys, chill, it's not like either one of you is-gay, so this doesn't matter, right?”, Liam says, sounding slightly disturbed at the mere thought of either Louis or Harry being gay, and his words remind Louis of the exact reason why his feelings for Harry aren't, and can't possibly be, real. “See you in seven minutes!”

The room that they're in looks like a guest bedroom, with a double bed in the centre and a wardrobe and a chest of drawers lined up against one of the walls. 

“Well, then”, Harry looks like he's not sure what to do with himself, and if Louis wasn't so drunk and high he might even notice the way that Harry picks nervously at the bottom of his shirt before shoving his hands into his jeans pockets and swaying awkwardly on his feet. 

Louis notices that he's still clutching the vodka bottle in his sweaty palms. He brings the bottle up to his lips, but Harry places a hand on Louis' own before he can take a swig. 

“Lou, I don't think you should drink any more tonight”, he says. 

“We're stuck in here for seven minutes, so what else is there to do?”, Louis laughs, but the warmth of Harry's hand seeping into his skin makes his voice unsteady and shaky.

“Seriously, are you okay?”, Harry says again. 

“I'm fine, like Liam said, neither one of us is gay so this is completely fine, okay?”, Louis' voice only grows more high pitched no matter how hard he tries to control himself. Despite Harry's warning, he drinks more of the vodka anyway. 

“Louis, are you serious right now? You know how Liam can get, why are you acting like this?”

“Harry, why are you defending Liam for being a homophobic asshole?”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because- I like you, okay?”, Louis can't quite believe the words coming out of his mouth, and it's definitely the combination of drugs and alcohol in his system talking and even though he knows he's going to regret everything in the morning, it feels oddly comforting to say the words out loud. 

“I like you and your stupid face and I'm sick of pretending like I don't and I just-”, Louis rambles on. Instead of looking horrified or disgusted like Louis expects him to do, Harry looks more shocked than anything else. Then, with one stride across the room to close the already small distance between them, Harry presses Louis up against the wall and slots his own mouth over his. It's astonishing how quickly Louis' hands tangle up in Harry's curls, pulling him even closer.

“I thought you'd never say that”, Harry murmurs. His breath is soft and warm against Louis' skin as he moves to kiss gently down the shorter boy's neck. Louis mewls like a kitten when Harry starts sucking at the skin just below his ear. 

“That's gonna- leave a mark”, his breath hitches as Harry nips at a particularly sensitive spot. 

“At least we'll have evidence that we're playing by the rules”, Harry's voice is equally breathy, and he takes a break from biting yet another hickey into Louis' neck only to grab hold of his legs and pull them tight around his waist. 

The way that Harry is kissing him makes Louis feel like they're the only two people left in the world, hungry and desperate for each other's touch. Louis is getting higher off the taste of Harry's lips than he ever could off any type of drugs, and only the feeling of the hard, cold wall against his back and the scratching of Harry's nails up and down his skin remind him that this is all real and happening. Louis half unbuttons the fabric of Harry's shirt and places his palms steadily on his chest without breaking apart their kiss- he's not sure what his plan is, considering that they only have seven minutes together before Liam comes looking for them, but his need for skin on skin contact increases by the second. He lets out another moan, louder this time, as Harry licks along his bottom lip before biting at it, not quite hard enough to draw blood but hard enough all the same. Harry is just about to dip his tongue down into the space of Louis' collarbones when the sharp knock on the door reminds them just exactly where they actually are. They don't even get the chance to disentangle themselves from one another when Liam comes bursting through into the room.

“Oh- shit, guys”, is all he can say.

“This- isn't what it looks like”, Louis starts weakly. 

Liam doesn't reply, and Harry looks hurt at Louis' words. 

“You know what? This is exactly what it looks like”, he says. “I'll see you later”.

Harry storms out of the room, leaving a shocked Liam and an even more shocked Louis behind. 

“I think I should probably go, too”, Louis says, and Liam doesn't try to stop him. 

Harry doesn't even turn around when Louis calls his name down the driveway. 

The next day, Louis wakes up on his living room floor with a hangover and a worried looking Harry hovering above his head. 

“Harry!”, Louis practically jumps out of his skin. He's the last person Louis was expecting to see after the events of the night before, but it's not an unwelcome presence- quite the opposite. 

“Lou, sorry, I- I just wanted to make sure you were okay after I acted like such an arsehole last night”, Harry says.

“Harry- don't-”, Louis tries to shush him by putting a finger over his lips, but Harry gently shoves his hand away. 

“Let me continue. I completely overreacted last night and I completely get it if you don't ever want to talk to me again because I-”

This time, Louis shushes Harry with a kiss, and doesn't get shoved away in the slightest. 

“I know that this isn't going to be the easiest thing in the world- us two- but fuck what other people think, right?”, Louis smiles against Harry's lips. 

“Does that mean- Lou, will you be my boyfriend?”, Harry's voice is happy, ecstatic even, and when Louis kisses him again, he takes the answer as a firm yes. 

Louis finally makes it to the bathroom to clean up (after Harry threatens to break up with him before their relationship has barely even begun if he doesn't brush his teeth as soon as possible) and downs two pills of paracetamol to subdue his pounding headache. They decide to go for breakfast in their usual cafe, and neither one of them can stop giggling and smiling at each other from across the table. A few people stare their way when Harry grabs Louis' hand, resting on the table, but Louis knows that as long as he has Harry on his side, nobody else matters in the slightest. 

When they come back to college on Monday, Liam is quick to apologise for his reaction. Neither one of them is surprised when he comes out as bisexual a few months later and starts dating a model, Zayn, from one of the neighbouring schools. Niall, meanwhile, admits that he's always been a bit scared of Harry (Louis doesn't blame him), but he's more than happy for their relationship, and while Louis knows that nobody else's opinions can ever define him and Harry, it's good to know that they've got the support of their friends in a world filled with so many homophobic, rich jerks. For the first time in his life, Louis has something in his future that he knows that he can count on- the terrifying prospect of not managing to get into a good enough university and disappointing his parents fade when he thinks about just how in love he is with Harry and how in love Harry is with him, and he knows that he's found his forever.


End file.
